


Head Games

by Kittenly



Series: Halfway to Heaven and Just a Mile Out 'A Hell [5]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Asexual Relationship, Asexual Romance, Asexuality, Case Fic, F/M, Gen, Graphic Description of Corpses, Murder Mystery, Mystery, NaNoWriMo 2016, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-11
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-08-30 09:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8528740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenly/pseuds/Kittenly
Summary: What starts as just another missing persons case becomes something much darker the deeper Valentine and Darling get. The evidence is confusing, motive illusive, and the list of suspects sprawling. With each new break it becomes clearer: something evil lurks in Diamond City.





	1. Chapter 1

What do you do when the war’s over?

I mean, leading a war, and against all sanity, _winning_ a war? What do you do after? I ain’t sure what really counts as “career progression” from there.

I still hadn’t come up with an answer when I’d returned to Diamond City and Valentine’s Detective Agency--or, now I guess it’s _Valentine and Darling Investigations_ since he added my name to the sign. Probably as good a retirement plan as you’d get in the Commonwealth. We’d been back in town a few weeks, with Valentine not letting me do much until the various bodily injuries I’d sustained in the final push against the Brotherhood healed up. Stimpacks can only get you so far. Sometimes you just need good old fashioned rest.

Unfortunately if there’s anything I’m bad at, it’s sitting still. Every time Ellie or Valentine came back into the office they had to coerce or on occasionally pick me up and drop me back into bed.

And it was that time again. I heard the door of the tiny room open and shut followed by Valentine’s exasperated sigh. I didn’t look over. I was bent over at the desk, looking through case notes from a little job Valentine had just taken on. It wasn’t anything big--the meat market had been reporting thefts every two or three nights and they wanted us to look into it. I chewed on the end of a pen, trying to fit details together.

As he entered, I let my other hand drop from where it had been poking at my tender ribs. No need to give Valentine more excuses to keep me out of action.

Valentine made his way over to me, carefully stepping over open boxes of notes piled on the floor like he was traversing a minefield. When he reached me, his hand--the fleshy one--dropped onto my shoulder, and squeezed a little too hard to be entirely friendly.

“You’re up,” he said.

“If you’re trying to guilt me, it ain’t gonna work,” I said, shrugging him off. Even as I made the gesture I couldn’t quite hide wincing. I’m sure Valentine noticed. He didn’t seem to remember that I’d suffered far worse and carried on just fine.

“You should be resting. You ain’t gonna be of use to anyone if you don’t let yourself recover. Things will be fine without you for a few more weeks.”

I frowned, glaring down at the case notes and pointedly not looking at Valentine. If I made the mistake of looking up into those bright, lightbulb eyes, I knew he’d find some way to convince me back into bed. In an act of bodily betrayal, a chill swept through me, raising aching gooseflesh along my arms. It wasn’t as bad as it had been those first few days coming off the Med-X, where the chills had outright hurt as the withdrawal wracked me. I could tell he noticed and I hated worrying him. And to my intense irritation, he knew that.

“Wasteland might be fine but you’re already getting buried under all our new business,” I said, trying to rub the chill out of my arms. It was true. Ever since Valentine had added my name to his little sign, our office was flooded with jobs, about seventy percent of them fake. After leading the Minutemen and the Railroad to victory against both the Institute and the Brotherhood of Steel, I figured I’d be a little notable. But now it seemed like everyone knew my name and wanted to get a look at someone they considered a hero. I’d hoped coming to Diamond City, with its guards, high walls, and a grip on neutrality so strong it would have made Old World Switzerland proud, that maybe people here wouldn’t care so much about me.

Needless to say I was wrong. Turns out folks are folks and it don’t matter if it’s the twenty first or twenty third century. People love a celebrity. Just wish it didn’t have to be me. I’d spent most of my life working the back end of things, first as a lawyer, then as a spy. I still wasn’t sure how I’d got talked into heading a goddamn army. Being an icon of that sort wasn’t really in my resume.

And now I was a detective, or at least trying to be one. It had been weeks and though I’d tried to get in some actual detecting, Valentine and Ellie kept tag teaming me, keeping me in bed, away from nosy would-be clients and from all the cases.

I guess in a sort of annoying way, it was sweet. Maybe I wasn’t exactly at a hundred percent--still better than you’d expect after making the final stand of two-year long guerrilla war. And I’d been recovering for weeks, and even if my body wasn’t quite ready, my mind was jumping at the gate.

“Did you check with Percy?” I asked. “He’s up all night. Maybe he saw something.”

“I’ve questioned all the vendors. None of ‘em could remember anything out of the ordinary on the nights in question,” Valentine said, then he shook his head. “But that’s not the point. The point is you should be in bed.”

I finally looked up at him. The war had been kinder to him than me but that was to be expected. He was a synth after all. The only thing that really bothered him was the rain and damp, and still, coming up with oil for his joints was much easier than coming up with food for a militia. Battered and old as he was, he didn’t look all that much worse for being on the front lines of a war, except for his skin worn away in a few more places.

“I’m going crazy being in bed all the time,” I said, letting a bit of my frustration seep into my words.

He looked at me kindly, which was how he looked at pretty much everyone--the old softie. Anyone who said a machine couldn’t have a soul had never known Valentine. He acted as though he was maybe fifty five percent heart by weight.

“I know it ain’t easy,” he said, squeezing my shoulder again. More friendly this time. “But with what you been through? You need time. To heal. To _rest_ ,” he put special emphasis on the final word.

“You ain’t gonna drop it until I’m back in bed, are you?” I said with a sigh.

He smiled. His hand dropped from my shoulder and found mine. His hand may not have felt like human skin, but it was still warm and solid.

“Nope,” he said, “But tell you what: I’ll bring in some of the case files. Get your _professional_ opinion on them.”

* * *

 

Pounding at the door startled me from sleep. Instinctively I reached to my side for my rifle, and a white stream of panic flooded me when only the empty bed was beside me. I jumped up, twisting wrong so my ribs screamed in protest. I let the adrenaline drown the pain, eyes darting for my bag, for a gun, or really anything I could use as a weapon. In the corner of the room a baseball bat leaned against the wall. But before I could snatch it up, hands caught me around the waist. I tried to turn and break the hold, but Valentine’s voice brought me back.

“You’re safe, Darling,” he was saying over and over. “You’re safe. There’s no war. You’re in the office.”

The panic drained out of me like water through a ruptured paper bag, leaving me feeling weak. Valentine helped me sit back down on the bed and crouched in front of me. I must have looked like a disaster, short hair sticking up at every angle, damp with sweat. Everything hurt. Warm suns of agony burned around my right knee and burst in my chest with every ragged breath. Valentine offered his hands, and I squeezed them, waiting for my body to return to equilibrium. I fought down the temptation to smother it with a bit of Med-X, and squeezing Valentine kept me grounded for long enough that the pain returned to hibernation. I was heady with endorphins, and that was enough.

“I’m okay,” I managed to say, letting go of his hands.

“Take all the time you need,” he said.

“I’m good. Promise.”

He looked at me skeptically yet accepted the grin I gave him--shaky but sincere.

The pounding resumed. Valentine looked me over. When he was satisfied I wasn’t going to run out and bludgeon someone to death or pass out from the pain of trying, he stood and made his way towards the stairs.

“It’s probably just someone with a lead about the meat thief,” he assured me.

Nevertheless, I got up and hobbled after him. We padded down the stairs from the loft into the tiny office. Valentine checked his hip and unsnapped the strap of his holster. When I gave him a look he glared.

“Don’t hurt to be careful,” he said, before opening the door.

A small woman of South American descent came in. I recognized her--Antonia Rodriguez. She and her wife, Petra lived with their three girls south of the market. Petra was handy with a needle and thread and did a bit of tailoring for the city. I wasn’t sure what Antonia did, though if I had to guess, I’d say she probably worked the orchards by her home.

Valentine invited her in with his usual warmth. As she stepped into the relative light of the office, I could see her heavily lined face stricken with fear.

Now you don’t get far in the Wasteland, even in the relative safety of Diamond City, by letting fear get to you. I had a hunch of what might be able to shake a woman like her so entirely.

“How’re the girls?” I asked.

“That’s just it,” she said. Tears filled her eyes. I looked up at Valentine. He nodded, and lead Antonia to a chair. She collapsed into it like she was a deflating soccer ball. Tears dripped down her nose, splatting on her trousers. I walked to the back of the office, putting a kettle on a hot plate while Valentine soothed her.

“It’s my youngest, Victoria,” she said, her voice halting. “No one’s seen her since this morning. She didn’t come home with her sisters for dinner. They don’t know where she is.”

As I finished brewing tea, Valentine got out a notepad and started getting the basic information. How old was she? Who last saw her? Has she gone missing before? Any problems at home?

She looked at me gratefully when I handed her the cup. I got another one for myself. I sat next to Valentine and studied Antonia as she answered his questions. Dirt on her face was smudged from tears, and she trembled. Unlikely that she herself had anything to do with the disappearance. We’d of course have to talk to the rest of the family, but my intuition said it wasn’t them.

‘Course, my intuition has been wrong before.

“Do you know of anyone who would want to hurt Victoria or your family?” I asked.

Antonia’s eyes darted up to mind, and then back down. “No, not really,” she said. “The children get in fights sometimes, but that’s just children for you.”

“Of course,” I said, glancing at Valentine, who nodded.

“I know this must be very frightening for you, Mrs. Rodriguez,” Valentine said. She nodded into her tea. “But I promise me and my partner will do everything in our power to bring your girl home.”

Her eyes flashed up at me again. “You’re son was kidnapped,” she said. It wasn’t a question.

My jaw locked, and I nodded stiffly. “He was.”

“And you found him?”

A vice clenched in my chest. “Yes.”

“Will you and Nick look for my girl like you looked for him?” Her eyes were so dark they were almost black, though rimmed with red from tears and worry. I knew her pain, intimately, and for a second, it all crashed back over me like a breaking wave.

“I promise,” I said, my voice cracking.

It seemed to reassure her. She stood, looking around for somewhere to place her teacup that wasn’t covered in piles of paper. Embarrassed, I took it from her.

“I’ll show you out,” Valentine said.

As she left, she glanced over he shoulder at me, those dark eyes full of faith I just hoped I could live up to.

When the door clicked shut behind her, I was already halfway up to the loft, pulling off my pjs. Valentine was up a second later.

“Oh, no you don’t,” he said, trying to grab my shirt from my hands. “Like hell you’re going out right now.”

“The first day of a kidnapping is the most important,” I argued, snatching the shirt back and pulling it on. “The longer we wait, the colder the trail gets. And I _am_ going to find her.”

“Darling,” he said, soft and even like he was trying to calm an anxious animal. “I know this is hitting close to home, but you have to step back and _think_.” I glared at him. It didn’t phase him one bit.

“It’s the middle of the night,” he continued. “It’ll be easier to search for clues once it’s light out. And if we go try to question people this late, they’ll react just like you did, but they won’t have me there to keep them from actually shooting us.”

I took a deep breath, ordering my mind to slow and look at things logically. I didn’t want him to be, but Valentine was right. Trying to go out now would just be a waste of my fairly limited energy. The smart thing to do would be to head out in the early morning and start to put together what happened then.

Didn’t mean I liked it though.

“Fine,” I said, probably a bit sullenly. “I get it.”

I sat down on the bed with a squeal of springs. Valentine pulled up a chair and sat in it backwards, leaning against the back with his chin in his hand.

“I don’t get it, Darling,” he said. I looked over at him and frowned. I hated it when he looked at me like that. Like I was a particularly cryptic clue or a bit of abstruse evidence. I plucked at the fraying seam of the mattress.

“Get what?”

“You. A few weeks ago I would have said you were the most diabolically patient person I’d ever met. I’ve seen you smile at psychopaths, laugh with people I know you hated, all so things would go perfectly when it was time to spring a trap. I’ve seen you hold your position almost _too_ long, just because you refused to be rush into a confrontation hastily. But now you’re here, and every time me or Ellie come in we have to drag you back to bed because you won’t sit still long enough to let yourself recover.”

“It’s different,” I said. “I ain’t _doing_ anything sitting around here. You won’t let me work cases. I ain’t running an op here. I ain’t setting a trap, or waiting for the right time to spring one. I’m just...here. No use to anybody.”

He went to stand, but I reached out and held him back. Now that the words were coming, I couldn’t stop them. I needed him to understand.

“Valentine,” I said, pleading. “I ain’t a wounded animal you need to nurse back to health. I’m your goddamn partner.”

His eyes darted to mine, luminous in the dim light. He sat back down with a bit of a deflated huff. He stared at me, half dressed on the little cot I’d occupied since we’d returned to Diamond City, then his eyes flicked to the table by the bed. The little nightstand was covered in medical supplies: empty bottles of addictol, a cooler with Med-X, a giant glass bottle of asprin tablets, and rolls of cloth bandages. I refused to follow his eyes and acknowledge the contents of the nightstand. I might have had a few lingering pains, but I was so much better, and I needed Valentine to see that. To let me help.

Finally, Valentine sighed and rubbed at his eyes. “You’re right,” he said. “I can’t rightly keep you from working on our cases. Not after all the work we went through to add your name on the sign.” I shot him a smile, which he returned.

“All right, I’ll tell you what,” he continued. “You sleep through the night and we’ll go out tomorrow. And if you start to get tired, we’ll get you some noodles until you feel good enough to head back out.” It wasn’t quite the full concession I wanted, but it was a compromise, and I could appreciate that.

“Fine,” I said. “But you’re buying my noodles.”


	2. Chapter 2

Valentine was good as his word. The next morning he didn’t even give me any overly worried glances. Or if he did he hid them well enough that I didn’t notice. It was nice to wear proper clothes again after weeks of various pjs and too big t-shirts. While I was never much into fashion back in the Old World, I still liked to look nice. 

Thankfully, looking nice was easy when you had a genuine Silver Shroud trenchcoat, hat, and scarf at your disposal. Valentine could make fun of my “costume” as much as he wanted, but I’d seen myself in the mirror and I rocked the dark, mysterious vigilante look. 

Valentine was standing outside the office, cigarette in hand. I don’t know if they actually do anything for him, or if it’s just a compulsion left over from Old Nick. The smell sent me back to summers at my grandparents’ house, so I didn’t mind. When he saw me approaching, he flicked the stub into the frosted dirt and we set out for the Rodriguezes. 

It was late autumn, and while you couldn’t see many trees from within Diamond City, the morning smelled like damp fallen leaves. Winter’s bite lurked in the air, and while it would burn off by late morning, it was only a matter of time before the world went monochrome under a Boston winter. 

We walked side by side, hands shoved into pockets and breath (or at least my breath) puffing out as we made our way through the market and back towards the fields and orchards. The homes were poorer out here than in the rest of the city, but still finer than most of what you’d find in any other settlements. Valentine lead me to one of the doors. The house was one of several short, fat homes in a small square by the orchards. Shuttered windows were latched tight, keeping out the morning chill.

Valentine knocked and almost immediately Antonia opened the door. She gestured for us to come inside. Inside was one large room, though parts had been sectioned off by wooden dividers. Radiator hummed in the middle, filling the room with electric heat. 

We were seated in the living area, where several reupholstered chairs sat in a cozy circle. Petra brewed some coffee for me and I drank from the steaming mug gratefully. 

“We’re here to ask some more questions,” Valentine said. “I know we got started last night, but we’ll want to talk to the whole family.”

“Whatever you need,” Antonia said. Her eyes were red rimmed and her face was lined even heavier than it had been last night. She hadn’t slept. 

By the looks of it Petra hadn’t either. She was a tall woman, with broad shoulders and a square face. Her eyes were bruised with lack of sleep, and she worked her jaw as if it was sore from being clenched for so long. She sat stiffly at their kitchen table, a mug steaming in her hands. Behind her, the two older Rodriguez girls stood awkwardly, looking between me and Valentine with wide eyes. 

Antonia introduced us to the other girls, Eleanor and Theodora. Eleanor was the oldest and must have been about thirteen. Theodora wasn’t much farther behind at twelve. Victoria was seven, and the girls slowly told us their story. 

“Take me along from yesterday morning,” I told them. 

Eleanor took the lead, glancing nervously at her parents as she spoke. “We like to play chase with the other kids,” she explained. “Tori’s younger than the rest of us and sometimes she throws a fit if she’s it and she don’t wanna be. So we tell her to play by herself in the garden.”

“Never for very long,” Theodora interjected. “We always running by, and she likes to play by herself.”

“Hey, hey, I get it,” I said. “We know it wasn’t your fault. If you ran by the house yesterday, do you remember the last time you saw her? Maybe get us a better idea of the time she was taken.”

The girls looked at each other, and Theodora’s chin started wobbling. Eleanor’s eyes focused at her feet and she didn’t say anything. I waited, letting them take their time. 

After a solid minute of awkward silence, Antonia broke in.

“She asked you a question,” she said, voice growing hot. “When did you last see her?”

The girls flinched as their mother snapped at them.

“We didn’t mean for her to get taken,” Eleanor just repeated, her eyes full of tears. “We told her to stay in the garden. That’s never been a problem before.”

“Tell the detectives when you last saw here!”

I made to stand but Valentine got there first. 

“Mrs. Rodriguez, I understand that this is painful and scary for you and your family, but raising your voice isn’t going to help.” 

“He’s right, Tonia,” Petra said. “Why don’t you go heat some water for a bath. I’ll stay with the girls and the detectives.”

A small sob escaped Antonia but she nodded and left the little home. When the door shut behind her, Petra turned back to the girls. Her eyes were anxious bright as she looked at her daughters, but her voice stayed calm and even. 

“Mommy’s just scared,” she said. “Neither of us are going to be angry with you. We just need you to tell the truth so we can find Tori.”

“Promise?” Theodora squeaked.

Petra nodded, and the girls finally looked back at me. 

“We...weren’t actually around yesterday much,” Eleanor said. She peeked over at her mother and took a big breath, as if about to confess to the crime herself. “But we put a rock through Ms. Lydia’s window on accident and then we ran and played in the market so she wouldn’t know it was us.”

“We didn’t get back until supper,” Theodora said. 

Petra’s face had gone pale, but her voice was still cotton soft when she spoke.

“Thanks for telling us, girls,” she said. 

“Who’s Ms. Lydia?” I asked. As I did, the door opened, and Antonia returned with a drum of water for their bath. 

“Old Lydia,” Petra said. “She lives in the shack closest to an orchard. I think you should look into her.”

Antonia shook her head and wiped a small line of sweat from her brow. “She’s an old bat, but she wouldn’t hurt one of the children,” she argued. 

Petra crossed her arms. “She threw a bottle at Alonzo’s boy last month,” she said. “He needed stitches.”

I cut them off, eager for any semblance of a lead. “So Lydia,” I asked. “Any last name?”

Petra shrugged, her arms still crossed tightly over her chest. “None that we know of. She don’t do much socializing.” 

Valentine nodded. “I’ve heard of her,” he said. “Diamond City Security get called on her every now and again. Has she made any threats against you or your daughters?”

“She mostly just shouts at the neighborhood children,” Antonia said. “Every once in awhile, things get out of hand. You think she might have done this?” she asked. 

Valentine and I exchanged a glance. “It’s not a lot to go on,” I said. “But we’ll look into it. She’s a place for us to start anyway.”

Petra gave a stiff nod. “Good luck getting anything out of that old bit--”

“Petra!” Antonia scolded. 

Petra sighed. “That old...woman.”

After a few more minutes of reassuring the family, we left. Antonia gave us a little black and white photograph of Victoria to take with us. We stepped outside back into the small square. The sun was climbing and I took a moment to enjoy the warmth as it sunk into my black coat and let the conversation we’d just had settle. Seeing the whole family’s reaction to Victoria’s disappearance just strengthened my confidence that they weren’t involved. As for the neighbor, well…there’s a big difference between yelling or even throwing things and kidnapping. Though if she were mad enough from the rock, maybe?

We picked our way over the creaking boardwalk down to the tiny shack where Lydia No-Last-Name lived. As we walked, I took inventory of the area. What once had been the Red Sox outfield was now Diamond City’s farm and mutfruit orchard. Right now, the ground was frozen mud. Hard, crumbly and trampled by the gang of kids who clearly played in this area. It wasn’t the place you would get a clear footprint, and even if you did, I’d be surprised if it gave us any further direction. 

A few mutts wandered behind the houses, looking hungry and wary of us as they rooted in piles of garbage for scraps of food. 

We arrived at Lydia’s door. Valentine gave me a look, asking me silently if I was ready. I nodded. I had only just made the first knock when a small glass bottle flew past my ear and shattered behind me. In a heartbeat, Valentine had his pistol drawn. 

“Easy,” I said, pushing his gun muzzle towards the ground. 

“That was a warning,” a voice called from inside the house. “Leave me alone or I’ll bottle your mug good ‘n proper.”

“Charming woman,” Valentine muttered. I gave a soft chuckle of agreement. 

“Ms. Lydia?” I called out. “We just want a moment to speak to you.”

“If you’re hear about that boy you can fuck off. The little turd was trespassing.”

“We’re not hear about Alonzo’s boy,” I said, making my voice as placating as possible. “I’m Sofia Darling. Me and my partner are looking into a missing girl. We just want to ask you a few questions.”

A shuffling noise came from inside and finally the door creaked a little ways open. A large brown eye glared out suspiciously before the door creaked open wider. Lydia No-Last-Name was a small woman, with bushy, tangled dark hair, pockmarked face, and scowl lines deep set into her skin. Her scowl deepened when she set eyes on Valentine. If he noticed, he didn’t show it.

“This is Nick Valentine,” I said. “My partner.”

“I know who you are,” she snapped. “Whole bleeding ‘Wealth knows who you are. Now why are you bothering me? Unless you come to haul the little shits who broke my window off to lockup.”

I took a breath, letting the woman’s abrasiveness slide off me. A little girl was in danger, and even if I already wanted to slug this woman, there were faster ways to get answers. 

“You know Victoria Rodriguez,” I said. I showed her a picture Petra had given me.

Lydia gave a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t bother learning the brats’ names,” she said. “Don’t matter who they are s’long as they stay away from my home. Which they don’t, mind you.”

“But you know her,” Valentine pressed. 

“I seen her around. What of it?”

“When was the last time you saw her?” I asked. 

Lydia scowled. “I told you. I don’t keep track of the little monsters. Couldn’t tell ya.”

“Of course,” I continued. “Could you tell me what you were doing yesterday?”

She looked between me and Valentine, her eyes narrowed to slits. I thought she might slam the door on us, but finally she spoke. 

“Nothing much. I pruned the far garden in the morning. In the afternoon I went to my brother’s house.”

“Brother?” Valentine said. “Who’s that? Where does he live?”

Lydia turned her eyes to my partner, a glimmer of arrogance burning in them. I didn’t like how she looked at Valentine. Like he was something to be thrown out with the garbage. 

“James. Upper stands,” she said, pride ringing in every word. Upper stands, basically Diamond City’s gated community. It was damn hard to get real estate up there. Mostly you had to be born into it.

The implications of her words were clear. He’s too good to talk to the likes of you. 

“You mentioned your window,” I said. “What happened?”

“Some blasted kids threw a rock threw it yesterday morning. I go call the security, but do they care about an old woman like me? No! They just tell me to stay away from the little shits. They broke my property and what do they get for it? Nothing? And their good for nothing parents don’t do nothing about their little terrors.”

I put on a disgusted sigh. “They shoulda been punished for destroying your stuff. Some people’s kids,” I said, shaking my head. “At least keep‘em in the house so if they gotta break stuff they at least break their parent’s junk.”

Lydia nodded sagely along with me, her face warming a bit. “And I keep trying to tell security, but I swear, you tick ‘em off once and they won’t help you ever again.”

“That just ain’t right,” I agreed. “And you know if some of their shit got broke, they’d have heads.”

“See, you get it, sister,” she said. 

“So after they wrecked your window,” I said. “You said you went to security, but they were useless.”

“Lousy, no-good dogs.”

“And after?” I pressed. “Did you run into any of the kids?”

“No,” she said. “I told you. I went up to James.”

“Right after?” I asked. 

“Near abouts.” 

“You didn’t come home?”

“I dunno what you’re trying to get at,” she said, her goodwill starting to fade. “I walked around, steamed as all hell and when I was cooler I went to James.”

“Right,” Valentine said, interrupting. “Well, let us know if you see or hear anything about Victoria.” She make a noncommittal noise, but nodded in my direction. It was all we would get out of her for now. 

The door slammed as we walked away. I felt fatigue already pulling at me even though it was barely late morning. Between the walking and detectiving, I felt exhaustion bubbling to the surface. 

“You know, it’s terrifying how easy you do that,” Valentine said. 

“Do what?” I said absently. My mind was still on Lydia-No-Last-Name.

“You just. Change. Suddenly it’s not my Darling talking.”

I shrugged. “Not sure what you expected,” I said. “I was a lawyer. Then a spy. I’m good at roleplay.”

“Huh,” he said. “Well it’s creepy.”

“Consider yourself lucky then,” I said. “You’re one of the few who get the real deal Darling.”

“That right?” he said. “I like the sound of that, the Read Deal Darling.”

I gave a tired chuckle. “I mean, if I’m pulling one over on ya, by this point I gotta be running some kinda epic long con.”

“Well I’ll be sure to watch my back for when you spring your dastardly plan. But in the meantime, let’s get you some noodles,” Valentine said. I nodded still distracted. My mind analyzing the conversation for any scrap of a clue. I didn’t come up with much.  

“Everything else aside, she was  _ quite  _ the piece of work,” I said. Valentine laughed. 

“That she was. Did you see how she puffed up when she got to mention her brother in the upper stands?”

“Heh. Yeah. Too good for scrubs like us. All we done is save the Commonwealth. Twice.”

“How cosmically insignificant in comparison to being born twenty feet above the ground,” he said, and he tried to say it with gravitas but ruined it when he couldn’t keep from laughing.  

We nodded as we passed by some Diamond City Security officers. They gave us a nod as they headed back towards where we had come from. As we entered the market proper, the bustle of the day was just starting in earnest. The shopkeepers were starting to hawk their wares and services, and there was a great screeching as the gates of the city opened to let in traders and caravans. 

“Sit,” Valentine commanded, and I slumped onto the counter as he got me my noodles. I slurped them gratefully, my belly happy to be filled with hot food. 

“So,” I said through a mouthful of noodles. “What’d you think of Lydia?”

Valentine snorted. “What a pill. Woman’s like stale coffee she’s so bitter.”

“Yeah, but do you think she had anything to do with the girl’s disappearance?”

Valentine considered that for a long moment. He took out a cigarette, lit it and took a deep drag. I drank up the last bits of salty broth from my noodle bowl. 

“It’s hard to say this early,” he said uncertainly. “But I don’t think she’s involved.” I glanced at him, eyebrows raised. 

“What makes you say that?”

“I guess it’s just that I don’t see her as really having much motive,” he said. “I mean sure, she don’t like the neighborhood kids. But kidnapping? That just seems too extreme a reaction.”

I bit my lip, thinking things over for a second. Valentine let me take all the time I needed to assemble my thoughts. 

“I hear you,” I said. “But also some things just seem...I dunno. Weird.”

“Like what?”

“Couple things. Like what’s she doing over in Farmland if she’s got a brother up in the Stands?”

“Hmm. You’ve got a good point. Though I don’t blame James if he don’t wanna live with her.”

“Fair,” I said. I scooted the empty bowl away and leaned on the table. “But what about the rock? You think maybe that was a final straw or something?”

Valentine considered, flicking his cigarette. After a few contemplative puffs, he said, “I think we need more to go on. By itself, even a gal like her being mad as all hell don’t add up to kidnapping.”

“Either way, do you think it’s worth getting up into the Stands to question the brother?”

“Maybe if we still can’t find nothing down here,” Valentine said. “And that’s assuming they let us up there. You might get in just fine, but...” he gestured to himself. There was really no mistaking him for anything but a synth. 

“Dunno about that. It’s not exactly a secret that I’m more of a Goodneighbor gal than a Diamond girl.”

“You do spend a concerning about of time with Mr. Mayor over there,” Valentine said. 

“Pfft,” I snorted. “You like Hancock just fine.”

“Sure, I like him just fine on his own. It’s just things tend to get rather, hmm,  _ explosive  _ when the two of you are together.”

“You’d get bored without us,” I said. “Anyway, let’s head back over and see if we can catch any of the kids--” I made to stand, but I must have put the weight on my leg funny because my knee buckled and I crumpled like someone had cut strings holding me up. My knee screamed. I’d hurt it in the war, probably an ACL injury, but aside from hurting, it hadn’t given me much grief since I’d been in recovery. 

“Darling?” Valentine’s voice penetrated the haze of pain. I looked up at him and gave him a shaky smile. He bent forward, wiping a few loose tears from the corners of my eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, breathless. “It was more startling than anything.”

“Can you walk?”

“Don’t think that would be a great idea,” I said. He nodded and helped get me back onto the stool. He brought over another stool and we eased my leg up onto it. I could already feel the swelling under my slacks. Valentine flicked out his switchblade.

“Wait! Wait! No No No,” I shouted and swatted at him. “These are the nicest pants I own and like hell are you ripping them up!”

Valentine glared at me, but pulled back. 

“I got some bandages in my pack,” I said, pointing to where the trusty backpack slumped against the counter. “You can wrap me up with those.”

“Wrapping it over the slacks might hurt your circulation,” Valentine pointed out. 

“Just do it,” I said, irritably. 

“Fine, fine.”

I winced as he wrapped my knee, but once it was done I felt much better. Not better enough to go for a run or anything, but the pain was nothing I couldn’t handle. I sighed in relief when he was done.

“Thanks,” I said. Valentine grumbled, but his heart wasn’t in it. 

“Stay put,” he said. “Talk to people around here. I’m gonna go back to Farmland.”

My initial instinct was to protest, but even I could figure out that I wasn’t in good enough shape to go traipsing through muddy slush after small children. 

“Alright. I’ll...be here,” I said. 

I stared at the back of Valentine’s shabby trenchcoat as he headed out of the market. Sending him off on his own just never felt good to me. Not because I didn’t think he couldn’t take care of himself--the old bot had pulled me out of enough tight corners that I’d be a fool to doubt him. It wasn’t something so easy to pin down. I just never felt quite right when he wasn’t around. 

Despite the my general disliking of being without Valentine, I found sitting in the market pretty swell. The autumn sun was now high in the sky, and the day was warming up nicely. I’d been holed up inside for so long that even the weakening sun felt like heaven on my skin. I pulled off the Silver Shroud coat and scarf, and just lounged in the button-down I had on underneath it. 

A few of the shopkeepers came around to shoot the shit a bit. I asked each of them if they knew anything about Victoria. Only a few even knew who she was, and no one had seen her since yesterday. 

I had eaten three bowls of noodles when I heard shouting voices enter the market. A group of three Diamond City Security officers hauled out a haggard looking man who looked maybe halfway to ghoul-hood. I strained my ears, trying to hear with Security was saying, but it was difficult to make out over the haggard man’s shouting. 

Eventually, they made their way up the stadium stairs and out into the Fens, where I supposed they tossed him out and shut the gate behind them. Poor sod. 

For all Diamond City claimed to be an oasis in the rough of the Wasteland, it was its own kind of brutal. It was a minor miracle that they tolerated Valentine and me, given him being a synth and me rubbing elbows with a lot of “undesirables.” In their eyes, a Diamond City was a garden, and it must be weeded if it was gonna stay healthy. 

“Is this seat taken?” a voice said, startling me from my thoughts. A man stood to the side of me, and indicated a stool on the other side of the one my leg was propped on. He was a little over six foot, which was tall for a Wastelander. Shaggy brown hair hung down over his ears, going a distinguished silver at the temples. His eyes were a muddy brown, and deep set into a face that looked used to smiling. 

“No,” I said. “Just don’t bump my foot.”

He sat, and paid Takahashi for a bowl of noodles. 

“Mind if I ask what happened?”

I shrugged. “Nothing interesting. Hurt my knee in a fight a few weeks ago and it’s acting up.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Sounds interesting to me,” he said. “You get into fights often?”

I laughed, maybe a little too hard. Damn, the last thing I needed was for more of the city to think I was cracked. 

“You could certainly say that,” I said. “It happens a lot when you’re out in the ‘Wealth as often as I usually am.”

He nodded along, as if he knew what I was talking about. As he did I noticed the telltale texture of ballistic weave in his clothes and a pistol holster under his arm. Either on their own wouldn’t have been telling. Lots of Wealthers go around armed. Ballistic weave means you got cash and access to supplies. Both together...

“So what are you?” I asked. “Merc or caravan guard?”

He looked at me with surprise. “I work caravans,” he said, then with a grin added, “What are you, a detective?”

“As a matter of fact…” I said. 

“No shit?” he said. 

“Darling,” I said, holding out my hand. “Sofia Darling of  _ Valentine and Darling Investigations _ .”

Reaching over my outstretched leg, he took it in a warm, firm grip of his own. “Atticus Worthington.”

“One hell of a name you got there,” I said with a laugh. 

He gave me a lopsided smile. “What can I say. My parents were the literary type.”

That got my attention. The smile disappeared from my face, melting off like the morning frost. 

“Where do you come from where they still have readable copies of  _ To Kill a Mockingbird _ ?” I asked. 

His gaze dropped and he fidgeted as I studied him. This character suddenly got a lot more interesting. That book had been hard to find since the it had been flat banned in the 40s. How the hell did one manage to survive into the Wasteland long enough to serve as this man’s namesake? Who were his parents to even pay an old book enough attention to read it?

“What’s your story, Mr. Worthington?” I asked. “I reckon you’re more interesting than any old caravan guard would be.”

He gave an awkward laugh. “I’m not that interesting, I promise.”

I didn’t buy it, but if he didn’t wanna reveal his life story to me when we had only just met, I guess that was his prerogative. I stored it as an interesting tidbit in the back of my mind and didn’t push him any more. 

He stared at the ground for a minute or so, as if braced for me prying more. When it was clear I wasn’t gonna, he glanced up. 

“Didn’t think the jewel of the Commonwealth would need a detective. Not with the security they got. Did you see that guy they dragged out?” he asked, words spilling out almost faster than he could say them. 

I nodded. “The poor bastard.”

“I wouldn’t be too quick with your sympathy. They had to drag him off some robot he was trying to maul.”

I glanced over where Valentine had gone. “Robot? Like Takahashi?”

He shook his head. “No, more person-like.”

“Dammit Valentine…” I muttered. I shifted, trying to stand up. It made my knee hurt, but I figured I’d be alright if I hobbled carefully.

“Hey,” Worthington said, jumping up and pressing me back into the seat. “I don’t think you should be walking on that.”

I brushed him off. “You saw was my partner, and I need to make sure he’s alright.”

“You have a robot for a partner?” Worthington asked, bemused. 

“He ain’t a robot,” I snapped. “He’s a synth. And just as much a man as you are.”

“Synth? You mean those things are actually real?”

I stopped trying to get up and just stared at him real hard. I settled back in my stool, continuing to appraise the mystery man. “Ain’t no ‘Wealther who don’t know about synths. Unless they’ve been living in a hole for the past sixty years. Which, granted, ain’t impossible.”

He nodded. “Grew up in a Vault,” he said a little sheepishly. “I haven’t been on the surface for very long at all.” He shuffled uncomfortably under my gaze. Before I could ask him which one he continued, saying, “Well, if he’s important why don’t I see if I can’t find your partner,” probably as an excuse to get away from me. 

“I’d appreciate it,” I said, feeling I’d get no farther trying to push. “Just tell him Darling wants to make sure he’s in one piece. He’ll scoot his mechanical ass over here eventually.”

“Sure,” he said, but before he left, he left a bottle of Nuka Cola for me. I sipped as I watched him go the same way Valentine had gone. There was more to Mr. Worthington than his hum-drum caravan guard profession let on. Color me intrigued. 

Worthington seemed to be good on his word though, because it wasn’t long before Valentine ventured back my way. Using him as a crutch, I managed to limp back to the office, where we debriefed and compared notes. 

Enthusiastic as the kids were to help him, Valentine got very little useful information out of them. Most seemed to think it was old Lydia. Despite being terrible to us and her neighbors, we both agreed that she was more of a boogeyman and aside from the broken window, nothing else really led us to think she’d escalated. 

The man who had attacked Valentine seemed to be a loner half crazed with radiation poisoning. How he’d managed to slip into the city we didn’t know, but it was a question for another day.

We talked deep into the night, bouncing ideas and venting frustration at our slim leads. When I started yawning more than talking, Valentine put me to bed and for once I didn’t protest. The loft in the office was tiny, with the little cot, nightstand, and a desk shoved together with barely enough room to walk between. Nevertheless, I didn’t feel crowded as I rolled over, back turned away from where Valentine sat as he returned to pouring over notes at the desk.

* * *

 

It was over a week before we got our first break. I was making the rounds, asking increasingly annoyed citizens the same questions as I had the day before when Valentine came jogging up to me. 

I could tell from his face that the game had changed. 

“What happened?” I asked. “You found something?”

Valentine nodded grimly. “You eat this morning?”

“Yeah. Why?”

He let out a long breath. “You may wish you hadn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well between Thanksgiving and getting really friggin sick, this took way longer than intended. Hopefully I'll be able to update at a steadier clip now. If you like what you read, please consider leaving a comment--you'll make my day.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Nanowrimo project, so while I have the bones of a plan, I'm mostly writing by the seat of my pants. 
> 
> Some notes: the timeline is very slightly AU, with the Institute being taken out before the Brotherhood, which was a much more drawn out conflict than in the game.


End file.
